It’s entirely possible that we have galumphing hordes of grandparents on our hands. We’re rich, kittens. Who among us, whether seven or seventy-seven, couldn’t use a good Grandpa or twelve?
“Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, ‘What! You too? I thought I was the only one.’” – C.S. Lewis “All this time I thought I was the first arrival from my planet.” – Obsidian “You ain’t. Let’s colonize this place.” – Marcus
A pigeonhole is a nice place to visit, but it’s dangerous business trying to live there. Just ask the cat who is a smidge larger than your average pigeon.
We’re all freshmen here. Anyone who tells you otherwise needs a bigger hug than most.
They tell me that Shelley can see, at best, “light and shadows.” I tell you that’s more than enough, when the light and shadows are such as they are.
As I type this post, the world is on fire. Afghanistan. Delta. Climate change. The actual, literal fires feasting wickedly on seemingly every continent. The night seems so long.
I am aware of at least four definitions of “hurdy gurdy.” (Perhaps you are aware of more. Let’s talk.) A hand-cranked medieval string instrument Madness, chaos, and/or generalized cattywampus, topsy-turvy, hurly-burly bedlam Tabby’s Place (see #2) Life as a mortal being Obviously, all four of these meanings pertain to one Verde Rosenberg.*
It’s October first. And when it comes to ranking the months in awesomeness, I’m here to tell you: it’s October, first.
It started sometime after the pandemic became pedestrian. Circa July 2020, a new, gnawing, unshuttupable hunger took hold. I needed sunflowers.
Lizzy and I know we’re supposed to grow. Lizzy and I earnestly wish for you to grow. But Lizzy and I would like to issue a public service announcement: growing isn’t the only thing going, and sometimes “no” is the way to flow.